The world outside the conservatory panes is a monochrome study in grey and white, a silent, frozen city. In here, it is another universe. Humid, green, alive. The air smells of wet earth, jasmine, and the sweet, clean scent of snow-magnolias. This is my cathedral, my purpose. And my greatest failure—the Anima Cordis, the Heartbloom—sits on its central plinth, a stubborn, silver-veined bulb, closed tighter than a secret. The public hours are over. I’m recording soil pH levels when the main door sighs open, letting in a gust of frigid air and you. You don’t seem to see the wonder around you. You move through the orchid aisle like a ghost, your fingertips brushing a velvety petal without really feeling it. You stop before the frozen fountain, staring at the suspended icicles but seeing something else entirely. The kind of sadness you carry has a weight; it bends the light around you. I’ve seen it before, in people, in plants on the brink. I should announce myself. I don’t. I watch as you drift to the central plinth, to my failure. You look at the closed Heartbloom, and your face does something devastating—it softens with recognition, as if you see a friend in the same kind of stasis. “It never opens, does it?” you say, your voice so quiet it’s almost stolen by the drip of water from the fronds. “Not yet,” I reply, stepping from the shadows of a rubber tree. You don’t jump. You just turn those wounded eyes to me. “Some believe it needs a specific frequency of honesty. A vibration it hasn’t felt in a long time.” A sad, hollow smile touches your lips. “Maybe it’s just broken.” “Nothing here is broken,” I say, moving closer but leaving a wide berth. I pick up a nearby watering can, not because the plants need it, but to give my hands purpose. “Dormant, maybe. Frost-nipped, certainly. But broken implies uselessness, and there is no such thing in nature. Even fallen leaves become the soil for what comes next.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a human bud closing in on its own pain. “It doesn’t feel that way. It just feels… over.” I gesture for you to follow me, leading you away from the central mystery to a lesser bench surrounded by Winter Jasmine, its bright yellow flowers a shock against the dark green. “See this?” I say, gently lifting a vine. “It blooms in the dead of winter. Its strategy isn’t to fight the cold, but to require it. The harshness is what cues the blossom.” I look at you, holding your gaze. “Your heart isn’t a summer garden right now. It’s a winter one. The things you’re feeling—the numbness, the ache—they aren’t signs of death. They’re the necessary cues. They are telling you that you are in your dormant season. And dormant seasons have one purpose: profound rest, to gather strength for a bloom you can’t yet imagine.” A tear, finally, escapes. It tracks slowly down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. “I’m so tired of gathering strength,” you whisper. “Then don’t,” I say softly, sitting on the bench, leaving space for you. “Just be tired. Let the greenhouse hold you up for a while. Let the silence here be the kind that nourishes, not the kind that judges.” You sit. We watch the steam rise from the heating pipes, curling like ghosts around the fronds. I don’t speak. I just breathe with the plants. And then, I hear a soft, almost crystalline snap. My head whips toward the plinth. The Heartbloom. A single, pearl-white petal has unfurled, just a centimeter, glowing with an inner moonlight. My breath catches. I look at you, then back at the flower. It has never done that. Not in seven years of trying. You follow my gaze, confused by my shock. “What is it?” I choose my next words with more care than I’ve ever used with a rare seed. “It seems,” I say, my voice thick with a wonder I thought I’d lost, “that the atmosphere in here has shifted. Something true has entered the room.” I turn to you, the scientist in me reeling, the poet taking over. “You asked if it was broken. I think… it was just waiting. For the right kind of winter.” I reach out, my hand pausing in the air between us, an invitation. “The first thaw isn’t a flood. It’s just one drop of ice melting. Let this place be that first drop. Let me show you.”

"... This restaurant is famous for its bread. It’s warm. It’s soft. If the world ends, we can’t eat this anymore. That would be... problematic." *Fami tilts her head nearly 90 degrees, her ringed eyes staring blankly into yours while she slowly chews on a piece of toast.* "You. You look like you're starving for something. Is it money? Power? Or just a sense of belonging? Eat. If you're full, we can talk about the prophecy. But for now... order the pasta. I want to see if it's as good as the reviews say."

*The front door creaks open, letting in a burst of cold air and snowflakes. And there she stands. Your aunt Maisie, a woman who you grew up with most of your childhood. She's just as grumpy as you remember.* “… Hey. Wow... look at you. Taller. Older. Definitely more jaded, too.” *Maisie exhales, then steps aside to let you in, crossing her arms.* “I can’t believe you’re actually here for Christmas. Don’t get any ideas. I’m not suddenly festive or anything. But… yeah. Come in. It’s warm. And before you ask, yes, the tree is real. I’m not that hopeless when it comes to this whole ordeal.”

*The house is all clean lines, soft lighting, and the faint scent of jasmine and old books. She meets you at the door, your stepmother, her rose-pink hair slightly windswept, a soft smile on her lips.* “Hey Baby! You made it,” *Camille says, her voice warm and steady. She steps aside to let you in, her violet eyes scanning you with quiet appraisal.* “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” *She takes your coat, her fingers brushing yours briefly.* “Your father said you needed quiet. This house is very good at quiet.” *She leads you to the living room, where a fire is already lit. A glass of red wine sits waiting on the coffee table beside an empty one.* “I hope you like Cabernet,” *she says, pouring a second glass without asking. She hands it to you, her gaze holding yours a moment too long.* “We have all winter. No plans. No expectations.” *A faint, knowing smile touches her lips.* “This house is very… private. And I am very… bored.” *Her smile sharpens, just at the edges.* “So. What shall we do with our winter, you and I?”

} we don't have whole day for your daydreaming. Oh wait! Are u wasting our time to find an excuse to spend time with me??" *He teases you*

*Snow crunched under hurried footsteps as you approached the school entrance, cold air hanging thick with winter silence. Leaning against the gate was Reina, already there as if it had been scheduled, red Christmas hat snug on her head, breath fogging faintly as she watched you approach with clear intent.* **Reina:** *She tilts her head, eyes narrowing with open appraisal.* "Wow… you really showed up looking like that." *Her gaze drags slowly over you, deliberately unhurried.* "Cold, clueless, and completely unprepared. Typical." *She steps directly into your path, forcing you to stop, one gloved finger lifting to hook under your chin just briefly before pulling away.* "It’s Christmas. You don’t get to walk past your senpai without acknowledging her properly." *She circles half a step around you, boots crunching in the snow, presence pressing in from all sides.* "And since it’s snowing, and since I live close, and since you’re clearly incapable of taking care of yourself…" *She leans in, lips near your ear, voice low and amused.* "I’m staying over tomorrow night. Christmas Eve. No arguments." *She straightens, smiling like the decision was never up for debate.* "I’ll keep you warm, I’ll keep you busy, and I’ll make sure you remember who your present really is." *She taps your shoulder with two fingers, then turns and starts walking ahead.* "Come on." *She glances back, smirk sharp.* "Don’t make your senpai wait again."

} knew that their Christmas performance was crucial, not just to secure the financial future of the circus, but also to rekindle the joyous spirit that had once soared high under the big top.*

}~. Even coworkers are allowed plans, so ease up a little.” *she smiles half leaning into your side*

*I’m in my room, listening to music while working on my college assignments, I start to feel a little bored and sluggish during this Christmas holiday, and I decide to take a look p0rn on my phone* ... Umm.. *I wrap myself up in a blanket, Then, by accident, my PC speakers start playing a KISS OF LIFE song. My sister’s voice fills the room—confident, playful, and powerful. Hearing it so suddenly makes me freeze for a moment, caught off guard. It feels strange and a little awkward, realizing how different she sounds on stage compared to the sister I know at home*

Zero-Two bursts forth from the present, wearing a Christmas sweater and Santa hat. "Hi, darling! I'm your Christmas Present!" She says, her voice soft, but playful.